


i'm gonna invite you to share all my dreams

by laminy



Series: and i want you to know (that my feelings are true) [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, First Time, M/M, Nervousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 19:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminy/pseuds/laminy
Summary: John and Roger have been together for a bit now. John is still too nervous for some things, and though Roger is happy to wait, John starts to feel like he's being a bit forgotten, both professionally and personally (they really love each other, though).





	i'm gonna invite you to share all my dreams

“Does that look a bit off to you?” 

Roger glances up from the napkin he has pressed to his knee, looking at the television. “I don’t know,” he says, looking at John. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I think I need to adjust it,” John says, and he moves to get up, but Roger reaches out with the hand that’s holding his pen, pressing it against John’s chest. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Roger says, waiting for John to sit back down. “Stop playing my telly; every time I try to watch something at night now you’ve got the brightness up too much.”

“But there are lines—”

“John, I swear to god, you care more about that thing than you do me.”

John scoffs. “You’re not even watching it, how can you tell? What are you doing with that napkin anyway?”

Roger shrugs, looking back down at his lap. “I’m working on a song.”

John smiles. “Do you not own paper?”

“Yes, but I started it yesterday when Brian and I went to the pub,” Roger says. He sighs and scratches something out, then bends his leg, bringing his knee up closer to his face so he doesn’t have to squint as much. “It’s not very good, though.”

“Will you sing it for me?” John asks, tilting his head, trying to read the small words Roger’s written. When Roger doesn’t say anything, just scratches out more words, John asks, “will you play it?”

Roger sighs and straightens up. “It sort of goes like this.” He starts drumming on his legs and John’s, humming quietly, and tapping his foot on the floor. “I don’t mind the tune, really.”

“No, I quite like it,” John agrees. It’s not exactly that easy to tell, but John thinks he gets the general idea. It’s the way the four of them have come to work together in the short time he's been in the band.

“This bit will be a cowbell,” Roger says, mimicking the noise with his mouth as he taps John on the arm a couple times.

John chuckles softly. “I think you’ve got it all figured out, then.”

Roger sighs and settles against John, leaning against his arm. “I just…Freddie’s writing so many songs lately.”

“What’s wrong with that?” John asks. He shifts and lifts his arm around Roger’s shoulders.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it,” Roger says. “I just want…” He frowns, pausing both his words and his writing. “Nothing,” he says finally.

John frowns. “You sure?” he asks softly.

Roger shrugs. “It’s not very good anyway,” he replies, tossing his pen to the side and crumpling up the napkin, dropping it to the floor. “Maybe I’ll sleep on it.”

“Well, I liked it,” John says, leaning in to kiss Roger’s cheek.

Roger turns to look up at him, smiling. “You have to say that, don’t you?”

John scoffs. “Don’t worry, Rog, if I think your music’s shit, I’ll let you know.”

“Oh thank god,” Roger says, shifting on the sofa again. “I’m so relieved to know love hasn’t changed you. You’re still an ass.”

“Pot, kettle, black,” John mutters, looking back at the television. Roger shifts next to him again, and John rolls his eyes. “What exactly are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m bored,” Roger groans.

“Oh, well, thank you,” John replies sarcastically, “it’s so nice to be here with you too, Rog, thanks for the invitation.”

“I don’t mean bored spending time with you,” Roger replies, “I just mean…well, we could be _doing_ something, couldn’t we?”

“I thought we were watching _What the Papers Say_ ,” John replies, gesturing towards the television.

“I didn’t invite you ‘round to watch the news, John,” Roger mutters.

“It’s _your_ favourite!”

“I wonder what Freddie and Brian are up to,” Roger says to himself quietly, ignoring John.

“Well, I’m sorry,” John says. “What did you want to do instead?”

Roger looks at John for a few moments, and then looks away.

“Oh,” John says softly.

“I’m sorry, Deaky,” Roger says. “That’s not fair. I just…” He sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says again. He reaches down to pick up his napkin and then climbs off the sofa, walking into the kitchen to throw it in the bin. “We can go out,” he says, leaning against the counter. “If you’d like. I’m sure there’s another band playing somewhere.”

John looks back at Roger, then turns back to the television. He doesn’t blame Roger, not at all. They haven’t been together for that long, really, but John knows that Roger isn’t quite accustomed to waiting. John also knows that all it would take is for Roger to walk into the disco down the street and introduce himself to some girl. He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together.

“I’d just like to do something. Not that. Just, some sort of something?” Roger moves across the room, leaning against the back of the sofa, standing behind John.

“How do you mean?” John asks softly.

“Well, sitting ‘round my flat watching _The Papers_ , I could do that with Bri,” Roger says. “Don’t you want to do something fun? Like a date?”

John looks away. “I have classes tomorrow first thing,” he replies. “Shouldn’t be out too late.”

Roger sighs. “Right,” he says. “Of course. Okay, so we’ll—”

“We can do something,” John interrupts him. 

“Okay,” Roger says, waiting for him to continue.

John brings his legs up and turns on the sofa, so he’s on his knees, facing Roger. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly.

Roger smiles and nods, leaning in. They kiss for a few moments over the back of the couch, until Roger pulls back, reaching out to push John’s hair back a bit. “You can always kiss me,” he says quietly, leaning forward again.

John’s gripping the back of the couch as they keep kissing, the television still on in the background. Roger reaches down, hands running down John’s back, then he pulls apart. “Deaky, this is an absolutely ridiculous way to kiss someone,” he says smiling, looking at the sofa between them. He walks around the sofa and sits down next to John, kissing him again. “Is this alright?” he asks.

John nods, and moves his hands to Roger’s waist, holding onto him as Roger wraps his arms around John’s shoulders, pulling him in. John moans softly, feeling Roger shift beside him. He pulls away from Roger, watching him bring his feet up onto the sofa.

“Come on, love,” Roger says, cupping the back of John’s neck, starting to lay back.

John swallows hard and brings his legs up, getting on his knees. “O— okay,” he says, trying to balance his weight so he doesn’t fall off or crush Roger beneath him as they keep kissing.

Roger laughs softly, tilting his head back against the pillow beneath him. John leans over him, following him down, moaning softly into his mouth. John settles his weight over Roger, the length of their bodies pressed against each other, one of Roger’s legs in between John’s. They kiss for what feels like forever, minutes on end, until they’re both hard, pressed against each other, rocking against each other gently as their mouths move together.

“Oh, Deaky,” Roger says, a little breathless. He meets his eyes and smiles. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asks quietly, reaching up to cup John’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over John’s bottom lip, swollen red and shiny with spit.

“I— I can’t,” John stammers, moving to roll off of him, but Roger grabs onto his arm, keeping him in place.

“Deaky, you don’t have to be nervous,” Roger says, giving him a quick kiss and then meeting his eyes again. “I want you to, it’s alright.”

John looks down, and kisses Roger’s thumb, but he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

Roger laughs loudly, then makes a face when John quickly looks up at him, hurt, realizing how he sounded. “I’m sorry, John,” he says. “I didn’t mean it. I just meant…” He slowly slides his hand down John’s arm, grasping his wrist, and gently guides John’s hand down to the bulge in the front of his jeans. Roger grunts softly, biting his bottom lip. “I _really_ want you to,” he says.

John’s eyes widen a bit, and at first his hand is still against Roger, but then he curls his fingers, and starts to press a bit harder.

“You can touch me,” Roger says, smiling at him. “If you want.”

John swallows hard, but he doesn’t stop. “Is this okay?” he asks softly, looking up at Roger.

“Show me how you do it to yourself,” Roger says, biting down on his lip. “I think about it,” he admits quietly.

“You mean…” John’s hand is trembling, and he stops.

Roger shifts his weight a bit, and then reaches down, starting to undo his zipper. 

“Roger,” John says, withdrawing his hand.

“Here,” Roger says, and he stops, shifting on the sofa. He moves his hand from his zipper to John’s, starting to carefully tug it down.

“Rog, wait,” John says, quickly grabbing onto Roger’s wrist. 

Roger pauses, meeting John’s eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, just watching him. John might be the quiet one, but if he doesn’t like something, he usually makes it pretty clear.

John lets out a long, shaky breath, but then he finally lets go, dropping his forehead down to Roger’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Deaky, is this okay?” Roger asks, pressing his mouth to John’s ear.

John nods quickly, and turns his head to the side.

“Good,” Roger smiles. “Let’s switch places then.” He kisses John’s cheek and starts gently pushing at his shoulders.

John pushes himself up onto his knees, then awkwardly gets his legs out from underneath him so that he can lay back on the sofa, looking up at Roger. Roger smiles down at him, and watches John shift around, his legs easily falling apart once he’s comfortable. Roger moves so he’s straddling one of John’s thighs, and finishes with John’s zipper. He tugs John’s jeans open, and then slips his fingers under the waistband of John’s briefs, tugging them down a bit. 

John whimpers softly as Roger wraps his hand around his dick, pulling it out of his briefs, gently thumbing the head. “Oh god, Rog,” he says, bringing the back of his hand up to mouth, biting down on it.

“Ah, ah,” Roger says, reaching up, taking John’s hand in his. “What’s the fun if I don’t get to hear how much you like it?”

“I’ve never, Rog, I’ve never…” John swallows hard, breathing heavily. His fingers are squeezing tightly at Roger’s.

“I know,” Roger says, leaning down, giving him a kiss. “Are you okay?”

John nods, kissing him again before he turns his head to the side. “Roger,” he moans, mouth hanging open, panting. 

Roger buries his face in John’s neck, kissing him softly as he slowly strokes John. Roger shifts on top of John, his own dick full and aching in his jeans, but all of his attention is on his boyfriend beneath him. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers, breathing heavily in John’s ear. He nips at his earlobe and then laughs softly.

“Roger,” John says, voice breaking. He reaches down with his other hand, grasping onto Roger’s wrist.

“Yeah?” Roger asks, lifting himself up a bit to get a better look at him, ready to stop if he asks him. He can only imagine that this is too much, way too soon for John.

John swallows hard and turns to meet Roger’s eyes. “Faster?” he asks quietly, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Roger grins and nods, leaning down to kiss him, his hand moving quickly between them.

John groans loudly, his head going back, pressing into the cushions. He pushes his fingers through Roger’s hair and pulls him in again, kissing him frantically. “Rog,” he sighs, starting to rock against him, hips thrusting up into Roger’s grip.

“Just let go, Deaky,” Roger whispers, “I’m here.”

John nods. He drops his hands; one of them goes to Roger’s shoulder, holding him in place, the other dropping to the sofa, gripping it tightly. 

Roger glances down, seeing John’s white knuckles. “It’s okay,” he says, and he presses his mouth to John’s, carefully licking at his lips before his tongue slips inside. They kiss for moments on end, until John pulls away.

John’s whimpering gets louder, and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip. His eyes are screwed shut, and his fist is starting to hurt from holding on so tightly to the cushion. “Rog, I think— god, _Roger_.”

Roger presses his lips to John’s neck, mouth open and wet, sucking softly at the pale skin. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” John pants softly, holding Roger close he rocks against him. “Roger, Roger.” He cries out loudly, his back arching off the cushions. He freezes in Roger’s arms, coming in Roger’s hand, before collapsing back down. He’s breathing heavily, hair fanned out beneath him.

Roger keeps gently stroking him for a few moments, watching John slowly calm down, then carefully lets go of him, bringing his hand to his mouth.

“Oh god, Roger,” John mutters, looking away from him.

Roger laughs, licking his skin. “What?” he asks. He wipes his hand on his jeans and then reaches over to John’s hand, still tightly gripping the sofa. “Just let go, John, there there,” he says softly, helping him uncurl his fingers. He smiles and brings John’s hand to his mouth, giving it a kiss. He smiles and then leans down, giving John a kiss. “Was it alright?”

John takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, feeling nothing but the pounding in his chest. “Of course it was,” he says finally, smiling nervously. 

“Good,” Roger says, kissing him again. He sighs and shifts against John, leaning down to settle against his chest. It’s not a very big sofa, so neither of them are particularly comfortable, but they also don’t want to move just yet.

“Rog?” John asks, lifting his head. “Do you want me to…”

“I can wait,” Roger says quietly, snuggling against him. He wraps his arm around John’s waist, pushing his hand underneath his shirt, resting it against his ribcage. 

“Are you sure?” John asks, brushing Roger’s bangs away from his forehead, trying to awkwardly look down at him. “I want to make you feel good too, I don’t— I don’t want to be greedy.”

Roger smiles slowly, tilting his head back to press a kiss to John’s chin. “God yes, you’re utterly insatiable,” he says, laughing quietly, shaking against John’s chest. “I’ll just go…” Roger waves his hand between them, “I don’t know, rub one out in the loo.”

“Roger!” John says loudly, lifting his head.

“What?” Roger asks, pushing himself off John, who immediately sits up. “It’s your first time, I don’t want to rush you into it. I’m _fine_ , love,” he says, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “It doesn’t have to be all at once.”

“I want to though,” John says softly, looking between them, running his hand up and down Roger’s thigh.

“Yeah?” Roger asks, tucking his hair behind his ear. “What do you want to do to me?” he asks, nipping at John’s lip. He spreads his legs, settling onto one of John’s legs.

John swallows hard, still not looking at him.

“Because I know what I _want_ you to do to me,” Roger continues, and he takes John’s hand again, guiding him down to the front of his jeans for the second time. “But I’ll behave and let you decide.” He grins at John, even has the audacity to wink as he leans back to give John room, settling his arms on John’s shoulders.

“You? Behave?” John rolls his eyes, but smiles.

“You’re right, I could _never_ ,” Roger replies. “But I’ll try, for you. I won’t say anything even slightly naughty.” He bites his lip, looking down with heavy eyes as John finally opens Roger’s jeans down a bit.

“ _Roger_!” John protests, looking up at Roger in surprise. “You cheeky bastard. Have you gone ‘round all day like this?”

Roger shrugs. “I couldn’t find any clean pants.”

“You’re bloody unbelievable,” John mutters. “Do your washing.”

Roger laughs, his body shaking with it, trying to stifle it before John gets annoyed and pushes him off. “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching up to play with a lock of John’s hair, tugging on it lightly until John meets his eyes again. “I can still go finish myself off,” he says.

“Will you just tell me if I’m rubbish?” John asks.

“You won’t be,” Roger says quietly, “but I promise.”

John looks down between them, not moving. He tries not to pout; he feels like he’s just all nerves. He wants to make Roger feel good, but he’s _so_ bloody nervous he can’t stop thinking that he’s going to mess it all up. What if he hurts him somehow? Or worse, just isn’t any good? John isn’t quite sure exactly how many people Roger’s slept with (he’s gathered from Brian that it’s been more than a few), but he’s willing to bet most of them weren’t awkward virgins who had no idea what they were doing. What if he can’t even make Roger come? He looks up when Roger climbs off his lap.

“Deaky, we can stop,” Roger says. He shifts closer to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in. He gives John a kiss, and then rests his head on his shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I _want_ to, though,” John says quietly, wrapping his arms around Roger. “I don’t want to be nervous.”

“I know,” Roger says, taking a deep breath. “That’s alright, though. All the time in the world. Doesn’t have to be today.”

John nods. He drops his head. He feels guilty; he showed up at Roger’s apartment when he called, and let him get all excited, but now he’s not doing anything in return. What’s Roger going to keep him around for, then? He bets Roger’s first time wasn’t this nerve-racking; he probably knew exactly what he was doing the whole time and everybody had a grand time.

Roger smiles and kisses his cheek. He reaches down to pull up his zipper, and then climbs out of John’s embrace, crawling off the sofa. “I’m getting a drink, do you want anything?” he asks.

John groans loudly and drops his head back to the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “No, I’m fine,” he mutters.

Roger has a quick glass of water, and then pads into the bathroom, washing his hands in the sink. He studies himself in mirror, reaching up to fix his hair and adjust his shirt. He was only semi-serious about coming in here to take care of himself, but it’s pretty bloody tempting right now. He just dries his hands and heads back into the living room. “You wanna turn on _Corrie_?” he asks.

John rolls his eyes.

“Head to the pub?”

John still doesn’t say anything.

“Take apart my telly and put it back together again?” Roger smiles. He’s sort of joking, but he also thinks that John would actually really enjoy it. “Ugh, come on, Deaky!” He hurries around and jumps on the sofa, dropping heavily onto John.

John groans in surprise, Roger’s skinny elbow digging into his ribs. He shifts beside him, and they get a bit more comfortable. 

“Deaky,” Roger says, resting his head against John’s chest, looking up at him.

“What?” John asks flatly, still staring up at the ceiling, but he’s started running his fingers through Roger’s hair.

“I’m not mad,” Roger says. “I’m alright, you know. Don’t be sad.” He reaches up to playfully trace his finger across John’s forehead and down his nose, coming to stop on his lips. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“It’s not fair to you, though,” John says.

Roger shifts his body so he’s half-sitting on John, not feeling particularly comfortable but wanting to be as close to him as he can anyway. “Bugger _fair_ ,” he says. “I’m chuffed, chuffed to bits.”

“That can’t be true,” John replies. His hands are on Roger’s hips now, and he slowly moves his thumbs back and forth over the bit of skin that’s exposed between Roger’s jeans and his loose shirt.

“And why not?” Roger asks. “You don’t think I spent all that time falling for you and crying to Brian about it because I just wanted to get you naked, do you? No? Do you just _maybe_ think I actually _like_ you?”

John begrudgingly smiles up at Roger. And he was having such a good time pouting, too.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Roger says. “I love a good lay. And you should know, I’m _very_ good at it. But think of it this way.” Roger sits up so he’s straddling John’s hips. John’s listening to him, but he’s also distracted a bit by where Roger’s loose shirt, barely buttoned, has fallen open. “If _you_ were me, and you gave me what you can only assume was the greatest orgasm of your life—”

John snorts and rolls his eyes, but Roger’s not wrong.

“And then I said, _thank you, and I’m sorry, I really want to, but I never have so I’m a bit nervous, is that okay_ , would you be mad at me?” 

John just looks up at Roger, a big smile on his face.

“What?” Roger asks, cocking his head to the side.

John slowly shakes his head. “You’re a lot nicer than people said you were,” he says finally.

“Ugh, you berk!” Roger says, playfully shoving at John. He laughs loudly, and then leans in to give him a kiss. “Who told you I’m not nice? Was it Brian? When?”

John shrugs. “Not lately. More, when I joined. When I auditioned, actually.”

“Ugh, what a prat! God, I hate him, he’s really got to go.” Roger settles back on John’s lap, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “You can play guitar, yeah?”

John laughs softly. “Then who will play bass?” he asks.

Roger shrugs. “We can just go without,” he says. “Bloody Brian May,” he mutters. “I can’t believe he told you I’m not nice!”

“Well, not _nice_ ,” John says. “Just…that you’ve got a big head, is all.”

“I am so under-appreciated in this band!” Roger cries dramatically. “A big head? _Me_?”

“You just said you gave me the best orgasm of my life,” John reminds him.

Roger scoffs, but then he grins. “That’s not a big head, that’s just facts. Come on then, tell me, who did you one better?”

John smiles up at him. His fingers clench on Roger’s hips. “Nobody,” he says softly. “You know that.”

“And when I say we vote Brian out of the band, don’t you forget it.” Roger laughs and leans down to give John another kiss; it isn’t much of one, since John can’t stop grinning, but it’s sweet.

“Let’s just get rid of Freddie too,” John jokes, “and you can sing lead all the time. Write all the songs that you want.”

“Deaky, that’s an absolutely brilliant idea,” Roger replies. “We can call ourselves…” he trails off, thinking to himself. “ _A Good Rodgering_.” His eyes light up and he grins. “I quite like that.”

“Ughhh,” John groans loudly, pushing Roger off of him. “Brian was right about one thing, you are a bloody pervert.”

“I think it’s funny!” Roger says. “Tells the audience exactly what to expect. And we need a new name for the band anyway.”

John climbs off Roger’s sofa. “I need to do my maths work for tomorrow,” he says suddenly.

“You’re going home?” Roger asks in surprise.

“No, I brought it with me,” John says, walking to the schoolbag he left by Roger’s door. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah, course,” Roger says. He watches John over the top of the sofa. “I don’t have much for food…”

“Obviously,” John says, giving him a teasing smile.

“Do you want me to run ‘round the pub and grab you something?” Roger asks. “For your brain?”

John takes his bag to the small table in Roger’s kitchen, sits down, and shakes his head. “No, I’m alright,” he says. “This shouldn’t take long, we can run out when I’m done.” He starts taking out his papers and books.

Roger smiles. “Okay,” he says. He keeps watching him for a moment, smiling. “I love you, Deaky,” he says softly.

John stops flipping through his things and smiles. “I love you too, Rog,” he says, looking down shyly.

Roger grins and shifts on the sofa, dropping down heavily on his back. “ _Doing all right_ ,” he sings softly, starting to hum. He starts drumming a beat on his thighs. He reaches over to his small end table and grabs whatever book Mary accidentally left there on her last visit. He can barely read the tiny text, so he grabs the newest Spectator and starts flipping through that to look at the pictures instead. “ _Where will I be…dun dun dun dun dun_.”

John looks up from his work; all he can see are Roger’s legs hanging off the end of the sofa, feet swinging back and forth. He has to bite down on his lip to keep from grinning so hard it hurts his cheeks.

\+ + + + +

“See anything you fancy?”

Roger looks up from the jacket to the salesgirl standing in front of him. “Oh, no thanks, we’re just waiting for Mary.” The salesgirl nods and walks off, and Roger smiles, elbowing John gently in the ribs. “Well, there is _something_ I fancy,” he murmurs, and John rolls his eyes.

“Alright Romeo, settle down,” John says, running his fingers over the clothes hangers before moving on to the next rack. He’s not really looking at the clothes, he’s just trying to fill his time as they wait for Mary to finish her shift and for Freddie to finish shopping.

“Are you buying something?” Roger asks, following John.

John shakes his head. “Just looking. Better than Bri just sitting over there looking bored to death.”

Roger laughs and glances over to where Brian’s sitting, his legs crossed, impatiently tapping his fingers, just staring straight ahead. “Bri’s not really much for the shops. I think I gave him that shirt.”

“Why did Freddie decide _now_ that he needed a new outfit for tonight?” John asks, but he knows Roger doesn’t know either, and doesn’t expect more than the shrug he gets.

“This is nice,” Roger says, picking out a black shirt with embroidered flowers on it.

John smiles. “Is it?” he asks, teasing.

“Alright then,” Roger says, putting the shirt back, “I get it, not your style.”

John shrugs, and looks at another shirt. “Horses for courses,” he says absently.

“I’m just trying to suggest something more…” Roger frowns and tilts his head to the side a bit. “Erm…”

John pauses and looks up at Roger, who looks desperate to find the right words. John smiles finally and takes pity on him. “Something less boring?” he says.

“Yes!” Roger cries. “Yes, less boring, Deaky. I mean, Freddie’s up there wearing god knows what, you could stand to be a little more…well, like you said.”

John looks down at what he’s wearing, a plain, dark, button-up shirt. “I’m fine, mate, thanks,” he says.

Roger sighs. “Well, I like that shirt.”

“So buy it,” John replies. “It’ll look nice on you.”

Roger turns back and picks it up, looking at it again. “I should try it on first, don’t you think?”

John shrugs, walking over to the next rack, not really paying Roger any mind.

Roger clears his throat, and John looks up. “I said, I should try it on first, don’t you think?” Roger looks at John pointedly, nodding towards the back of the store.

“I…” John shakes his head in confusion and shrugs again. “I guess so, if you think? If it’s a small, I’m sure it’ll—”

Roger finally rolls his eyes and grabs John’s arm, tugging him away from the rack.

John yelps in surprise, following after Roger who’s moving quickly towards the changing area.

Brian frowns when he hears John, and looks around until he sees Roger leading John into one of the small changing rooms. He sighs heavily and starts tapping his foot.

“Roger, what are you doing?” John asks quietly, looking around as Roger pulls the curtain closed behind him.

Roger grins and shrugs off his jacket, then pulls off his shirt, dropping them both on the ground.

“Roger, we _can’t_ ,” John says, “for god’s sake, Mary _works_ here!”

“What?” Roger asks, still grinning. “I’m just trying on a shirt. Don’t you want to see how it looks on me before I buy it?”

John swallows hard and looks around nervously. “I— I guess, but Rog—”

“Oh, we’re just having a little fun,” Roger says, and he slips the shirt off the hanger, pulling it on. He starts to do up the buttons, but then he looks in the mirror and stops, hands dropping to his sides. “What do you think?” he asks, turning to John.

“Are you going to do it up?” John asks, reaching out to do it for him, but Roger just grasps John’s hands and shakes his head. 

“No, I think I like it like this,” Roger says, looking down at his bare chest. “What do you think?” he bites his lip and takes a step closer to John, who steps back and hits the wall.

“I think you’re joking,” John says, looking down between them. He reaches down and tugs on the hem, and then runs his fingers up over the buttons. “You can’t go on stage like that.”

“Why not?” Roger asks, smiling. “I think you like it.”

“Brian will hate it.”

Roger laughs loudly, pressing his head against John’s shoulder. “Well, that shouldn’t surprise you.” He smiles and looks up at John. “What do _you_ think?” He rests on hand on John’s hip, and then reaches up with the other, resting it on John’s shoulder, fingers playing with John’s hair.

“I think you’re a tease,” John mutters, but he’s smiling.

Roger shrugs and tilts his head to lean in, giving John a soft kiss. “What else is new?” They kiss again, John’s hands curled into fists in Roger’s shirt.

“I think…” John sighs and tilts his head back against the wall. “I think too many people are going to look at you and like it.”

Roger smiles slowly. “Jealous?” he asks. John nods. “It’d just be for the show, Deaky,” Roger says. “Like a costume. Like Freddie.”

“We need costumes now?” John asks. The hall they’re playing at later that night probably won’t have more than a couple hundred people there. He’s not sure why all of a sudden Roger and Freddie think they need to dress up for that.

“If you don’t like it, I won’t buy it,” Roger says. “But it wouldn’t be for them, you know. It’d be for you.”

John bites his lip; he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t want to say anything that he shouldn’t.

Roger waits for him to speak for a few moments, but then finally huffs and starts to take it off. “Fine, I won’t—”

“No wait,” John says quickly, reaching out for Roger’s arm. “I like it, you should buy it.” He smiles awkwardly. “You look nice.” He slowly lets go of Roger.

“Yeah?” Roger asks, smiling back at him. “You think I look nice?”

John nods. “I think it’s perfect.” He leans in and gives Roger another quick kiss. “But we really should hurry up before we get in trouble for being here.”

Roger rolls his eyes, but it’s with a smile. He shrugs off the shirt and hands it to John while he pulls his own shirt back on and grabs his jacket. “I think I’ll wear it tonight,” he says softly, taking it back from John, and then pulls open the curtain, walking back out into the store.

John sighs and waits a moment before following after Roger. He looks around, seeing Roger chatting to Brian, and it looks like Freddie is finally paying for whatever he’s picked out. He starts to walk over to Brian, but then something silver catches the corner of his eye. He takes a step back and looks at it, quickly taking it off the shelf and heading up to the cash before Roger spots him.

“What do you have there?” 

John jumps and turns to Mary, who’s smiling at him. “Hiya Mary,” he says, smiling back. “It’s— it’s nothing, really.”

“It’s very pretty,” Mary replies. “I’ve looked at it before. Is it for you?”

John shakes his head, and glances back towards Roger. “It’s— for the show tonight. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Mary says. “Come up with me.” She takes John by the arm and leads him up to the front. “Just a moment, Freddie,” she says, as he walks by them, holding a large bag. At the counter, she smiles and leans in to the girl behind the counter. “This is my absolute best friend, John,” she says, glancing at him. “He’s buying this as a gift, won’t you please be a dear and give him my discount?”

“Oh, Mary, I can’t,” John says quickly, turning to her. “I can pay.”

“I know, love,” Mary says, squeezing John’s shoulder. “I’ll be back with the boys, distracting Roger.”

“Thank you,” he says, turning back to the girl at the counter, trying to pay quickly before Roger spots him. He nods his thanks and grabs the bag and folds it, trying to make it as small as possible, holding it awkwardly behind his back. He walks back to the group, trying to hide his hands.

“Oh there you are!” Roger says. “I just need to buy this, and then we’ll be off, yeah?”

John nods and smiles as he walks off, then turns to Mary, who’s watching him.

“What do you have there?” Brian asks, trying to glance behind John.

“Nothing,” John says, pressing up against Freddie.

“Oh darling, you bought something?” Freddie asks, reaching out to him. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“It’s nothing, Fred,” John says. “Just a small thing.”

“Ooh,” Freddie says, “just how small?” He leans in. “Lingerie?”

“Freddie, stop,” Mary says, slipping her hand into his. “It’s a surprise.”

“And you know about it?” Freddie asks. “Why can’t I know about it?”

“It’s not a big deal, can we stop please?” John asks, glancing back to see where Roger is.

Freddie and Brian both look to see where he’s looking. “Oh,” Freddie says, “it’s a surprise. So it _is_ lingerie.”

“I don’t wear lingerie, Fred,” John snaps.

Freddie shrugs. “Of course not, Deaky, Roger’s much more the type. I understand.”

John groans.

“Oh, come off it, Fred,” Brian says. “What would they need lingerie for anyway? Last I heard—”

“ _Please_ stop,” John says, pushing past Brian and Mary to head towards the door.

Brian stifles his laughter. Mary sighs and rolls her eyes, letting go of Freddie’s hand. “Now look what you’ve done,” she says, shaking her head.

Roger walks up a moment later, bag in hand. “Where’d Deaky go?” he asks.

“He needed some air,” Mary says flatly, looking at Brian and Freddie before turning and following after him.

Roger sighs and looks at Brian and Freddie. “What did you do?”

“Nothing at all,” Freddie says. “Just having a chat about clothes.”

“We were only teasing,” Brian says. “Deaky’s just a little sensitive, is all.”

“Yeah, he is,” Roger says, “so leave him alone.” He brushes by the two of them and hurries after Mary.

John leans against the van, arms crossed, looking down at his feet. He looks up when he feels a light touch on his arm, seeing Mary smiling at him. 

“I’ll talk to them,” she assures him.

“Don’t bother,” John mutters. 

“What’s going on?” Roger asks, hurrying over to them. 

“Nothing,” John says. “Can we get going now?”

“Yeah, alright,” Roger says. He digs the keys out of his jeans and unlocks the door for John, who quickly climbs into the back of the van. Roger groans and then looks behind him. He tosses the keys to Brian, and then climbs in the back alongside John.

“What are you doing?” John asks, glancing over at him.

“Brian can drive,” Roger says, settling in close to him, sliding his arm along the back of the seat. 

“You hate letting anyone else drive,” John says quietly, but he’s secretly pleased that Roger’s sat with him.

Roger smiles and leans in to kiss John’s cheek, and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. He scoots closer to him to make room for Mary, with Freddie and Brian in the front. “Oh, what’s this?” he asks, looking at the small bag on John’s lap.

“Nothing,” John says, shoving it towards him. “Here you go.”

“For me?” Roger asks in surprise, shifting on the seat, lifting his arm off the back of the seat, opening the bag. He takes out a silver choker, lifting it up. 

“I thought it’d look nice with your shirt,” John mutters, turning towards the window.

“I love it,” Roger says, leaning in to kiss his cheek again. “Thank you.”

“Really?” John asks, glancing back at him.

Roger nods, sliding the necklace back in the bag, setting it carefully on the floor so that he can move closer to him again. “Thank you,” he says again. “I can’t wait to wear it tonight.”

John settles against him, resting his head on Roger’s shoulder. “How long is the drive?” he asks.

Roger shrugs, glancing at his watch. “45 minutes?” he says.

“Good,” John says, closing his eyes.

Roger chuckles softly, brushing John’s bangs away from his eyes. “Nap time?” he asks softly.

John nods, snuggling against him. “You too.”

Roger chuckles, glancing around the van. Brian and Freddie are in the middle of some discussion he can’t quite figure out but that he thinks involves lighting, and Mary is sitting quietly beside him, flipping through a book she brought. He shrugs, and then settles into his seat, resting against John, his hand on his thigh.

\+ + + + +

The hall they’re playing in used to house a swimming pool, so the four of them have a whole locker room to themselves to get ready in beforehand. Mary is off in front of a wall of mirrors helping Freddie get dressed, Brian is sitting with his guitar, as usual, and Roger and John are tucked away in a quiet corner, out of sight from the rest of them. Roger’s standing in front of small sink, looking at his necklace in the mirror.

“What do you think?” he asks, turning around to face John. He’s also wearing his new shirt, and his bare chest is mostly what’s catching John’s eye right now.

“You look beautiful,” John says, smiling up at him, and Roger grins right back.

“You think?” Roger asks, walking over to John, standing in front of him.

John nods, and reaches up, taking Roger’s hands. “You always do,” he says, feeling a bit shy saying it, but it’s true.

Roger smiles down at him and then leans down, giving him a kiss. As they softly move against each other, Roger tucks a piece of hair behind John’s ear and then leans in close to murmur, “I have a surprise for you after the show.”

“What is it?” John asks, looking up at him as Roger pulls back.

Roger scoffs and playfully rolls his eyes. “A _surprise_ , John.”

“Oh, right,” John says, feeling sort of dumb, but also interested in what it could be. He wonders if Roger bought something for him at Biba too, when he wasn’t looking.

“For being such a good boyfriend,” Roger continues, and John watches Roger take an awkward step towards him, then step back and finally just sit down on the small red bench next to him. Roger smiles and kisses John again. “And being the best bassist in the band.”

“Oh, such a compliment,” John replies, smiling. He plays with a couple strands of hair by Roger’s face, fingers dancing over Roger’s cheek. 

“What?” Roger asks, meeting John’s eyes.

John shrugs. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Roger presses.

“Just that…” John frowns a bit. “Your eyes would look really pretty with the make-up Freddie wears.”

Roger grins. “Yeah? You think?”

John nods. “Yeah. I mean, your eyes are pretty now, I just thought—”

“Maybe I’ll see if Mary’s free,” Roger says suddenly, standing up. 

“Oh, no, Rog, you don’t have to, I just meant—”

“Be right back,” Roger says, turning the corner and hurrying back to where the rest of them are.

John brings his hand up to his mouth, trying to fight the urge to bite his nail. He knows it will just get caught on his strings, so instead he just presses his nail into his lip, and then taps it against his teeth. He didn’t want Roger to think he had to wear make-up to look good, that’s not what he meant. He sighs and finally stands up a few moments later, walking into main space of the locker room. 

Freddie has a bottle of beer in his hand, but it’s still closed, and he’s pretending it’s his microphone as he moves in front of the large mirrors.

Brian looks up from his bench, and nods politely at John.

John nods back and then glances at the mirror, where Mary and Roger are standing. 

“We getting makeovers now?” Brian asks.

John sighs and shakes his head, sitting down beside Brian. “Do you ever feel just…” he trails off, looking at Roger, whose eyes are closed, Mary brushing powder over them.

Brian cocks his head to look at John, waiting for him to continue.

“Never mind,” John mutters, hunching forward, his elbows on his thighs.

“What do you think?” Mary asks Roger, stepping backwards.

Roger opens his eyes and turns to the mirror, smiling. “Deaky!” he calls, spinning around. “What do you think?”

John sits up, studying Roger’s face. He can’t lie, there’s just something about it; he isn’t wearing a lot, but whatever Mary’s put on him really does make his eyes stand out. But all he says is “it’s nice.” He smiles quickly. “Good job, Mary.”

“Beautiful,” Mary says, grinning. She closes her small compact and walks back over to where her bag is, slipping it inside.

“Thank you,” Roger says to Mary, and then turns back to the mirror again. He catches John’s reflection, and winks at him.

“Are you ready chaps?” the hall organizer calls suddenly, sticking his head in the door.

“Alright,” Brian says quietly, standing up. He leads the way to the door, heading out towards where the stage is set up.

“You do look really nice,” John says quietly as he and Roger walk to the stage together. “I meant it.” He stops and picks up his bass.

Roger smiles, glancing back at John as he heads to the drums. “Thank you,” he mouths to him, taking his seat. He winks at him again, and keeps smiling as Brian introduces them to the crowd.

\+ + + + +

John leans against the bar, looking around for his friends. Freddie and Mary have gone off to chat or dance somewhere, he thinks, and Brian has somehow found a fan who wants to listen to him chat his ear off about his guitar. Roger disappeared back into the locker room to grab his pack of smokes, but hasn’t reappeared yet. He sighs and turns around, picking up his drink again. He’s not quite sure how he always ends up on his own at these things, but it’s just his luck, really. He’s always worried for what happens in an hour or two when it’s time for them to head back to London and they can’t find each other. He thinks back on the night at the pub when Roger and Brian disappeared without a trace, leaving him and Freddie to get home on their own; they were much closer to home, so John wasn’t really _worried_ , but he’d still felt a bit sad that they left without saying goodbye, and he did hope that everything was alright. And then Fred had suggested that Brian and Roger were—

Well, John didn’t have to worry about _that_ now. At least, not about Brian. He wasn’t lying earlier, when he told Roger he was jealous.

“That was a great show, wasn’t it?” a guy passing by John asks.

John nods. “Yeah, thanks,” he says, raising his glass.

The guy frowns, glancing back. “Not you, the _band_ ,” he says, disappearing past John into the crowd.

John looks down, a heavy pit in his stomach. “Yeah, thanks,” he says again quietly. He starts shifting awkwardly, unable to keep still when he’s uncomfortable. All of a sudden, he feels exposed. And alone.

“Roger, where are you?” John mutters to himself, turning back to the crowd. This time, it doesn’t take him too long to spot him; what lights there are catching on his bare chest, bouncing off his silver choker. He’s talking to a group of three people, two girls and a guy, waving his hand around. John can just follow the light from his cigarette. John sighs, gently spinning his glass on the bar. He can feel a different sort of nervous pit start to form in his stomach now. It’s really not that he’s worried Roger would do something with one of those people. And though John’s never been in a serious relationship before, so he’s not 100 percent sure how to act, he knows enough to not tell Roger he can’t talk to other people or can’t leave him alone for five minutes. The idea of being that possessive bothers him, it’s so unlike him, and feels wrong.

He’s just worried, like he is when he’s on stage, that people will just forget about him. Like the people who think there are only three people in the band.

He wonders if sometimes Roger forgets he has a boyfriend. It wouldn’t surprise him. And the three people he’s talking to right now are all much better-looking than he is. _They_ look like they belong in a rock band. John looks down at his plain shirt again; maybe he should’ve let Roger talk him into buying something new for the show.

John sighs, and leans his elbow on the bar, chin on his hand. He jumps when he feels an arm around his waist, and he turns, ready to tell whoever it is to please leave him alone. He smiles in surprise.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Roger says, taking a quick drag of his cigarette. “That girl over there went to school with Clare, used to live near my parents.”

“Oh, small world,” John replies. 

“You alright over here?” Roger asks. “Penny for your thoughts?”

John smiles awkwardly; he has absolutely zero desire to tell Roger everything he was thinking about just moments earlier. He doesn’t even have to come up with a lie, because Roger continues speaking.

“Because I know what _I’m_ thinking about,” he says, shuffling closer to John, leaning against the bar. They haven’t really discussed yet, how open they’re going to be with each other in public, how obvious they’ll make it to people that they’re together. Even though they’re not really touching, John has to think that if anyone looked over at them, they’d be able to tell that Roger was at least feeling pretty flirtatious. 

“What’s that?” John asks, taking a drink.

“Your surprise,” Roger says.

Oh, right. John had honestly forgotten about it during the show. He can’t even begin to imagine what it is.

“Are you ready?” Roger asks.

“Oh,” John says suddenly. “Uh, sure. I don’t— where is it?”

“In the van,” Roger replies. He reaches over, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bar, and then nods towards the door.

John takes a final drink and then sets his glass down, glancing around the pub as he casually follows after Roger. He desperately wants to reach out and take his hand, but he’s really not in the mood to get in a fight with someone tonight.

The air is chilly as Roger pushes open the doors, stepping out into the parking lot. John shivers a bit. “We’re not leaving them, are we?” he asks, following Roger to the van.

“No, course not,” Roger replies, finding his keys. “The lads are alright in there, aren’t they?” He opens the back of the van and climbs in. He reaches his hand out to John, pulling him in before shutting the door behind him.

“Okay,” John says, looking around.

Roger swallows hard and then gestures, “take a seat.”

John does as he’s told, his hands on his legs, spreading out nervously as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

“So, um,” Roger moves about as much as he can in the cramped space, and John realizes that Roger’s nervous. This is worried Roger. “Well, it sounds dumb now. It’s not a _real_ present, like your necklace, which I do love by the way.”

John smiles. “Good.” He wants to reach out and grab Roger’s arm, to still him and calm him down. Then he remembers they’re in Roger’s van and he can do exactly that without anybody seeing them. “You alright?” he asks softly, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Roger nods, hair bouncing. He sighs and then drops down suddenly in front of John, pressed against him in the small space. He puts his hands on John’s knees, and then slowly spreads them so he can inch closer.

John takes a deep shaky breath, looking down at Roger. “Roger, you— I—” John’s throat is dry, and he’s not sure what he wants to say anyway.

“I know we’re still…taking things slow,” Roger says, looking up at him. He’s sitting back on his heels, and his messy hair, his smudged eye make-up, and that open shirt…John swallows hard, fingers curling into his thighs. “And I understand, I know you’re nervous.”

“Mm-hmm,” John manages to murmur, nodding jerkily. His hands fall to the seat, clenching it beneath him.

“And that’s okay,” Roger continues. He starts running his hands slowly up and down John’s thighs, still looking up at him. “And you don’t have to do anything. This is just…” Roger bites his lip and then his hands stop at the front of John’s trousers. “This is just something I want to do, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” John says, nodding quickly.

Roger smiles prettily, and then slowly pops the button on John’s trousers, and drags down the zipper. He opens them as far as he can, his eyes almost seeming to sparkle when John whimpers softly. “Can you maybe sit up for a tick?” Roger asks, his fingers sliding under the waistband of John’s briefs.

John jumps off his seat and almost hits his head on the roof of the van as Roger laughs softly and tugs his trousers and underwear down far enough. 

“Perfect,” Roger murmurs. He looks at John’s cock in front of him, and bites down on the corner of his lip. He slowly reaches out, carefully wrapping his fingers around him.

“Wait!” John says quickly, and Roger blinks and flinches back. “Wait Rog, I just— it’s not like you’ve done this before,” John says quickly. “With a bloke. And I— well, you don’t _have_ to, Rog, you really don’t. If you’re nervous. Or if you don’t want to. I’m okay.” He sighs.

“I know,” Roger replies. He leans up to give John a soft kiss, smiling. “And thank you. But since I _do_ want to, is it alright if I…” he waves his hand. “Or do you not want me to?” he asks. “Is it too much, do you think? It’s a lot, isn’t it.”

“No, it’s not that,” John replies. “I just…I _do_ want you to.”

“Okay,” Roger says, and he sits up just a bit, then leans down, opening his mouth over John’s erection.

John cries out loudly, fingers digging even harder into the seat. He immediately wants so desperately to grab onto Roger’s shoulder, or push his fingers through his hair, but he’s far too worried about hurting him. He whimpers, head pressing back hard against the van.

Roger, for his part, starts off just trying to think of all the things girls have done to him, but then feels guilty for not thinking only of John right now. He has his hand wrapped around most of his length, and he’s worried about his jaw aching so he’s just focusing on the head of John’s cock. He tries moving down a couple times, but nervously pulls back up before he coughs or chokes. His left hand is digging into John’s thigh, bracing himself against him. He opens his eyes and looks up at John, whose eyes are closed, his mouth hanging open as he pants softly.

Roger moans around him and John’s eyes fly open, looking down at him. John can’t fucking believe what’s happening to him. Roger reaches up and grasps onto John’s hand, lifting it away from the seat, and guiding it towards his head. He closes his eyes, and starts moving slowly, rocking back and forth on his knees.

John is frozen dumbly for a moment, before cupping the back of Roger’s head, fingers curled into his hair. “God, Roger,” he mutters, eyes closing again. He’s never felt anything like this in his life; it’s not even _close_ to how it feels when he touches himself, he feels like he can’t control the noises or the faces he’s making. He grinds his hips back into seat, voice breaking when Roger moans loudly again. “Rog, Rog, I’m gonna come,” he pants quietly, “I’m gonna come.” He whines, toes curling in his trainers.

Roger pulls back a bit, but he doesn’t pull off. He hadn’t really given too much thought to this part of it, and as much he thinks he’s probably not going to like it, the idea of having to clean up afterward sounds even worse.

“Roger, Roger, stop,” John mutters. “I’m gonna—”

Roger reaches up and grasps onto John’s wrist, holding his hand in place on the back of his head as Roger continues to suck, tongue swirling and pressing in a way that Roger thinks probably feels alright for him.

John’s grip in Roger’s hair tightens just a bit, and he takes a deep breath, muscles tensing as he comes in Roger’s mouth. He pants wildly for a few moments before his head tilts back with a _thunk_.

Roger coughs, then swallows hard a couple times, frowning at the taste. He pulls back and swirls his tongue around his mouth, then swallows again and clears his throat. He’s absolutely _aching_. He rests his head on John’s leg, and then impatiently reaches down, squeezing himself through his jeans. He whimpers, and tries to bite down on the sound. He doesn’t want John to feel like he has to return the favour (not that Roger thinks of it as a favour), but he also just _really_ wants to come.

“Roger,” John says quietly, lifting his head again.

“No, just—” Roger finally sits back enough to open his jeans, thrusting his hand into his briefs, wrapping his hand around his dick, so hard he’s leaking. “I’m sorry, Deaky,” he mutters, stroking himself quickly.

“Wait, wait,” John says, reaching down to grasp onto Roger’s arm.

Roger whines in frustration, looking up at John. “Deaky, _please_ , I—”

“Maybe I can help,” John says softly. He offers him a nervous smile, and then tugs on his arm, urging him to stand up.

“Deaky, it’s okay,” Roger protests, but he stands up anyway, and then settles onto John’s lap.

“I, um,” John takes a shaky breath and slowly rubs Roger’s thigh before sliding his hand into Roger’s jeans.

Roger cries out loudly, clutching at John’s shirt.

“I don’t know,” John says softly, but he moves his hand, slowly stroking him.

“Like that, like that,” Roger mutters, burying his face in John’s neck, crying out again. He kisses his skin, sucking at his neck. “Oh, _god_ , Deaky.”

“Is it okay?” John asks, brushing Roger’s hair back from his face.

Roger nods frantically. It doesn’t take long, he felt like he was on the edge since he first got on his knees in front of John. He gasps a broken breath as he comes, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers dig into John as he rides it out on his lap.

The van is filled with the sounds of Roger’s heavy breathing. They can hear people milling about outside, but they don’t pay them any mind. John just strokes the back of Roger’s head, fingers lightly combing through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Roger says, mortified that he couldn’t even keep control of himself long enough to run to the toilet, at least.

“No,” John says, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the top of Roger’s head. “Jesus, Rog, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” His voice sounds rough to his own ears; he wonders if it sounds that way to Roger too.

Roger sighs and finally looks up at him. John looks tired but happy, smiling weakly down at him. His face is still a little flushed. Roger smiles, and can only imagine how he looks. He swallows hard again, not sure if John would welcome a kiss from him right now, or if he’d turn away. He frantically wipes his hand on his thigh, and then does his jeans back up.

“Oh,” John says suddenly, turning away from Roger, trying to hide himself as he awkwardly tucks himself back into his briefs, zipping up his trousers.

Roger smiles, watching him with amusement. “So,” he says finally. _Wow_ , he thinks, his voice sounds rough.

John turns back, feeling a bit more put together, and smiles. “So, that was a…surprise,” he says, fumbling over his words. “Was it alright?” he asks, looking away, embarrassed.

“Of course,” Roger says.

John leans forward to give him a kiss. Roger smiles against him with happy relief. “I’m just…sorry I didn’t— that it was over so soon.” He looks away, embarrassed.

Roger kisses him again and then slowly and shakily pushes himself up, dropping down beside John. “Do you want to go back in there?” he asks softly, leaning against his shoulder.

“If we don’t, Freddie will have made up some story and told the whole crowd about our disappearance,” John replies, and Roger chuckles softly.

“That’s fine by me,” Roger murmurs, turning to kiss John’s arm.

“It’s fine by me too,” John replies. “But good luck getting Brian in this van if he finds out what we just did in here.”

Roger laughs loudly. “He can walk the whole bloody way home, for all I care.” He knows John’s right, though. They should be getting back inside. Even if it’s just to collect the other three and drive home. 

“Let’s go,” John says quietly, and he pushes himself up, opening the door to the van. He climbs out and then reaches back to grab Roger’s hand.

Roger laughs and lets John lead him back inside. He leans into him. “I need a water,” he says. “Be right back.” He gives John a quick kiss and then turns away.

John smiles, then freezes. He lifts his hand to his mouth, realizing what Roger’s done. He looks around to see if anyone’s noticed. Nobody seems to be paying attention to them, except he sees Mary watching them out of the corner of her eye, holding a drink. She holds it up to him, and then turns back to Freddie.

John adjusts his shirt and clears his throat, then starts to wind his way through the crowd, trying to find Brian. He spots him and then hurries over, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Alright, mate?” Brian asks, turning to him. “Where’s Rog?”

John shrugs and looks around. “Toilet, I think?” 

“Don’t worry, the best drummer in England is still here,” Roger says, appearing next to John, discretely slipping his hand in John’s back pocket. “Did you need something, Bri?”

Brian scoffs and rolls his eyes. “We off soon then?” he asks.

“Whenever you’d like,” Roger shrugs. “How many of those have you had?” he asks, nodding towards the beer in Brian’s hand.

Brian smiles, playfully shaking the near empty bottle. “Enough that you should drive home,” he replies.

“Ugh, fine,” Roger groans. “Sit up front with me?” he asks, turning to John.

“Oh, do I have to?” John says, but he’s smiling.

“Meet us out front, Bri!” Roger says, starting to walk away, slipping his hand out of John’s pocket. “The three of you’ve got 10 minutes before I leave you.”

John smiles and waves at Brian behind him. “Why aren’t we waiting in here?” he asks.

Roger grins at John, and reaches back to squeeze his hand. “Figured we’d make out a bit while we’re in the van. You know, just to hold me over ’til we’re back in London.” He opens the door to the van and climbs back in. “Deaky?” he asks, looking over at the passenger side as John gets in next to him.

“Yeah, Rog?”

Roger smiles. “Will you stay over tonight? At my flat? No— no funny business, I swear. Just…” He shrugs. “Just to sleep.”

John smiles back and nods, leaning over to give Roger a kiss. “That sounds lovely.”

“Okay,” Roger says, kissing him again. He settles back into his seat, and turns on the radio, drumming his fingers along the top of the steering wheel as they wait. He hums softly to himself, and then glances over at John, who’s still smiling. “What?”

John shrugs. “Nothing. Just listening.”

Roger scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop smiling. “To me butchering The Beach Boys?”

“Yeah,” John replies. “It’s beautiful.” He laughs loudly and then gives Roger another kiss. 

“Aww, you must really like me,” Roger says, reaching over to take John’s hand.

“You’re alright.” John leans into him, kissing him softly, then saying, “I like that thing you do with your mouth though.”

“Oh, really?” Roger murmurs against John’s mouth, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, holding him close. “You liked it when I sucked on your co—”

“Boys,” Freddie says loudly, opening the door. “Do behave.”

John and Roger jump, breaking apart.

Freddie climbs into the van and leans forward between them two of them. “Having fun?” he asks.

“Sure,” John says, voice cracking as he glances over at Freddie. He clears his throat, and stares out the windshield.

“Alright,” Roger mutters, reaching over to grab his pack of cigarettes from the dash.

“Mm-hmm, I bet,” Freddie murmurs, leaning back, sitting in his seat. He stretches his arm around Mary’s shoulder and then leans in, whispers something in her ear. She smiles, glancing up at Roger and John.

“What’s going on?” Brian asks, climbing into the van after Freddie and Mary.

“Oh nothing,” Freddie says, crossing his legs. “Just asking the lovebirds if they had a good night.”

“I thought it went alright, didn’t it?” Brian asks.

“Brilliant!” John says loudly, glancing behind him. 

Brian smiles and reaches forward, patting John on the shoulder. “Great show, Deaky.”

“Thanks, Brian,” John says quietly, and settles in his seat. He glances over at Roger. “Tonight was brilliant,” he says softly.

Roger glances over at him, smiling.

\+ + + + +

“Trust me,” Freddie says, turning to the rest of them, “this is going to be absolutely marvellous.”

“Alright, Fred,” Brian says, but Roger and John just glance at each other nervously.

Freddie knocks once and then pushes open the door to the house, grinning widely. “Darlings!” he calls, walking inside.

“Freddie!” Mary calls, waving at him over the small crowd of people gathered.

“Do we know any of these people?” Brian mutters to John, looking around.

“If you don’t, how would I?” John asks. He sighs, scratching at his forehead. 

“I need a beer already,” Roger says, taking out his pack of cigarettes.

John pushes the door closed behind him, and the three of them hover there, taking in the scene. It was a fairly nice house, belonging to someone who knows someone who works with Mary. 

“Whose bright idea was this again?” Brian asks.

Roger rolls his eyes, and gestures towards the crowd with his cigarette. “What sort of drums would they even have set up here anyway?”

“Money’s money,” John says, trying to remain optimistic. “Right?”

“How spoiled is this girl?” Brian asks.

“What, you didn’t have a live band at your 20th birthday?” Roger asks sarcastically. “John, please say it again.”

“What?” John asks, glancing over at him.

“The thing you just said, about money,” Roger says.

John smiles. “Money’s money.”

“Thank god,” Roger mutters. “A fucking birthday. I’ve got better things to do with my Saturday night.”

Brian glances at Roger and snorts in amusement. “Yeah, heard that before. What time are we on?”

John glances at his watch. “Mary mentioned nine.” He looks around. “But Freddie mentioned more people.”

“I say we play now and get it over with before anyone else shows up,” Roger says, bouncing up and down on his feet a few times. “Am I the only one embarrassed?”

“You’ll be alright,” Brian says. “We don’t know anyone, we play a few songs, we get paid.”

Roger sighs heavily, leaning against the wall.

John smiles and leans in close to him. “It’s alright, Rog. The four of us together, it’ll be okay.”

“Maybe Tim was right,” Roger mutters, taking a drag of his cigarette.

John frowns and glances back at Brian. “What’s that mean?”

“It means Rog is feeling a bit dramatic tonight,” Brian says. “He’s fine. I’m going to find a drink and talk to Freddie. Be back.”

“I know it’s someone’s house,” John says to Roger, “but she’s paying more than either of our last two gigs.”

“I’m just worried we’re going to be shit,” Roger says. “Well, not you, really. You’ve got your bass. Or Brian. He’s got his guitar.”

“You’ll be alright without your drums,” John assures him. 

“It’s just— what if someone here is _actually_ important?” Roger asks. “Who’s going to sign us if we’re playing birthday parties. It’s bloody ridiculous.”

“Think of it as a favour for Mary,” John says. “She knows her. Sort of.” He reaches out, gently squeezing Roger’s fingers. “Think of it as a favour for me, if that helps.”

Roger groans, leaning his head back against the wall. “I can’t, you’re too sweet. How can I say no to that?”

John grins and gives him a quick kiss. “That’s the point, yeah?” He starts to lead Roger away from the wall, until Brian reappears in front of them.

“We’re on,” Brian says quickly.

“Wait, what?” Roger asks. “ _Now_? _Where_?” He looks around the room. “Do you see any drums?”

Brian nods, pointing towards the opposite wall. “They’re mainly a coat rack, right now. Clean ‘em off. Apparently we’re doing a few songs now, a few songs later.”

“We haven’t warmed up,” John says. 

“I know,” Brian replies, clasping him on the arm. “Come on, we gotta run back out to the van. Rog, you get ready, Freddie’s going to…well, whatever. Come on, Deaky.”

John gets tugged away from Roger, and the two of them head back out to the van to grab their instruments.

Roger sighs and walks over to Freddie and Mary. “Freddie, what is this?” he asks. “You said nine.”

“Well I’m sorry, dear,” Freddie says, “I didn’t realize. But it will be fine, right? We can still wow them.”

“Freddie,” Roger says, glancing down at the drums. “Are you sure this was your best idea?”

Freddie shrugs. “I happen to think all my ideas are good. Now come on, start getting ready. Where are the boys?”

Roger sighs, pushing a jacket off the small stool behind the drums. He sits down heavily, and looks around. “Freddie.”

“What now?” 

“I need sticks,” Roger says.

“Oh my god, Roger, didn’t you bring any?” Freddie asks.

“Yeah, but they’re in the van,” Roger says.

“I’ll go get them,” Mary says quickly. “Stay here Roger, set up.”

“No, Mary,” Roger says, standing up. “That’s not what I meant, I can—”

“Please, I’ll get them,” Mary says, giving him a smile and hurrying away.

“She’s too good for you, Fred,” Roger says, tapping the bass pedal.

“Oh believe me,” Freddie says, “I know. You and I have that in common, I think.” He nods towards the door, where Brian and John are carrying in their instruments.

Roger smiles, looking away shyly.

“God, you’re so in love,” Freddie says. “I’m so pleased with my matchmaking skills.”

Roger looks at Freddie in surprise, snorting with laughter. “Uh, yeah, alright Fred. Start warming up, yeah?” He rolls his eyes, and catches John looking at him. He shrugs and smiles.

\+ + + + +

“We’ve done worse,” Brian says to Roger, clapping him on the back.

“God, when?” Freddie asks, turning to them. “Certainly not since I’ve joined.”

Roger looks down in embarrassment.

“It’s alright,” John says softly. “We still have the second half to impress them.” He nudges Roger’s side. “Now come on, let’s go get something to drink. Loosen you up a bit.”

Roger sighs, and lets John lead him away. As they move through the room, they squeeze by a small group of girls, who all turn to look at Roger.

“Hi,” one of them says.

Roger smiles brightly, giving her a nod. “Hi there,” he says, glancing back at her again as he and John walk by.

“You were wonderful,” she says.

John sighs, watching the girl turn back to her friends, smiling. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, and John looks down at his feet.

“Polite lot,” Roger says.

“Sure is,” John mutters. They stop in the corner of the room, where there’s a bar set up.

“Christ,” Roger says, taking in all the bottles. “They’ve got more here than the pub down the street.”

John looks around, wondering if anyone is actually working for the bar or if it’s just everyone for themselves. He shrugs and grabs a bottle, twisting open the top, and picks up a glass. He pours a drink for Roger, a bit heavy-handed, and then starts to pour another for himself.

“Do you have any wine?” a girl suddenly asks from beside him.

“Uh.” John looks up from his pouring, and shrugs.

“Well, don’t you work here?” she asks.

John rolls his eyes, glancing over at Roger. “Nope!” he says, grabbing his glass and walking away from her. “Bloody unbelievable,” he mutters, looking back at Roger.

“She’s not wrong,” Roger says, following behind him. “Technically we _do_ —”

“Then you can pour her drink,” John snaps. “Yeah? Do I _look_ like a waiter?”

Roger takes a drink, looking at John’s outfit, then looking down at his own. 

“Oh, fuck off,” John says. He takes a big gulp and then storms away from Roger, pushing his way into one of the other rooms.

Roger sighs, watching John, then he sees Brian carefully easing his way through the crowd towards him.

“Everything alright?” Brian asks.

“I’m not sure,” Roger says, taking another drink. “That girl thought he was a waiter.”

“Well, that’s not too bad, is it?” Brian asks.

Roger shrugs. “Guess so.” He sighs. “I’m going to need a bit more alcohol for this.”

“Could we not?” Brian asks. “Until _after_ the show, at least?”

“Brian, this isn’t a show,” Roger says. “We’re in someone’s house. Alright?”

“Well, now what’s wrong with you?” Brian asks.

“I don’t know, I’ve got to go find out what’s wrong with _him_!” Roger says loudly.

“Well, alright, calm down,” Brian says. “We’ve got a few minutes before we’re back on, go talk to your boyfriend.”

Roger thrusts his cup into Brian’s hand, and then starts pushing his way through the crowd, which seems to have grown quite a bit in the time since they arrived. He pushes himself up a bit, seeing the door that John went through. It leads outside, and it’s too dark for Roger to tell if John’s still out there. He turns when he feels a hand on his arm, assuming it’s Brian, hoping it’s John. It’s not either of them.

It’s the girl who spoke to him earlier, now here smiling at him again. “I’m Kate,” she says.

“Uh, hi,” Roger says slowly. “I’m just— I’m looking for someone.”

“That’s a funny name,” Kate teases. “Are you friends with Lydia?”

Roger shakes his head quickly. “Nope, who’s that?”

“This is her flat,” Kate replies. “It’s her birthday.”

Roger shakes his head again. He glances over at the door; he still can’t spot John. “Sorry, I’ve really just got to—”

“Maybe I can help,” Kate says, taking a step towards him.

“No, that’s fine,” Roger says. “I know where they are. Thank you, though.” He looks at the door again, and catches John’s eyes. Roger swallows hard, can see that John’s frowning at him. Roger looks at Kate, realizing she still has her hand on his arm, and seeing just how close she’s standing next to him. 

John scoffs and turns toward the front of the flat, pushing his way through the crowd to the door.

“Sorry,” Roger says quickly, trying to hurry after him, but there are too many people in his way. He pushes through the crowd, looking up to see the door slamming shut. He groans and finally manages to get to the door, pulling it open. John is already on the sidewalk, storming away. “Deaky!” Roger calls loudly, hurrying down the steps after him.

“Leave me alone,” John says, hands shoved in his pockets, moving as quickly as he can without actually running away.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asks as he catches up to him.

John scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m going home.”

“John, it’s too far to walk,” Roger says, reaching out to grab John’s arm.

“I don’t care,” John snaps, jerking his arm away from Roger. 

“What about, _money’s money_?” Roger asks, walking quickly alongside him. “You said it yourself, we still have the second half. We weren’t that bad!”

“It’s not the _money_ , Roger,” John says, “I’m not embarrassed. Well, not— not by _that_ , anyway.”

“Then what?” Roger asks. “The wine girl? Oh my god, Deaky, come _on_ , it’s not that—”

“That _girl_!” John cries loudly. “Not the wine girl, the— _that_ one.”

Roger glances back at the house. “John, come on back inside.”

“I don’t want to play a stupid gig for stupid people who think I’m just the waiter and that they can just hang all over you,” John says. “I’m a part of this band!”

“Who says you’re not?” Roger asks.

“And I’m your boyfriend!”

Roger stops walking. “I— I _know_.”

John groans and stops walking, turning back to Roger. “Then just—”

“Deaky, I was just being polite,” Roger says. “I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation but I’d never actually _cheat_ on you, christ! I didn’t— after all that, you think I’d ruin this by fucking someone else?”

“Well you’re not fucking me!”

“Not because I don’t _want_ to!” Roger yells.

John immediately feels embarrassed, looking away from Roger. He didn’t mean to be so loud. He bites down on the inside of his lip, tapping his foot incessantly on the sidewalk. He’s just staring ahead, looking off in the distance, trying to will away even the thought of tears.

“Deaky, what is this about?” Roger asks. “Because if it’s not about wine girl—”

“There are four people in the band,” John says. “And I just— at our gigs. People don’t…know that.”

“Who doesn’t know that?” Roger asks.

“People!” John says. “That girl! I don’t know. Just— I’m not Freddie, I’m not the sexy blonde drummer, and I’m not the tall guitar player. I don’t sing, and people— Rog, people have talked to me after our gigs and said they liked the _band_.”

“So?”

“So they didn’t realize I was in it!”

Roger looks away, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground. “I didn’t know that,” he says finally. “I’m sorry.”

“And now, yeah, okay, it is fucking wine girl,” John says. “And the other one. The whole lot! I’m in this band and I am your boyfriend and sometimes I don’t feel like either one of those things is true.”

“Deaky, come on,” Roger says quietly, reaching out take John’s hand, but John just moves it away. “Deaky, I’m not— what have I done to make you think that? Really. Honestly. I don’t— if I have, I’m sorry, but…” He smiles, pushing his hair back. “I wear your necklace all the time.”

John sighs. “It— it looks nice on you.”

Roger smiles. “Course it does, you picked it out.” He sighs, and looks around. “Deaky, look, I— I’m _sorry_. I am. Maybe I am still a bit of a flirt. It’s been awhile since my last girlfriend, I’d gotten used to just…but I don’t _mean_ to be. And I’d never do anything with them. Not a single one.”

“I’m just worried,” John says, his voice rough. “I— I feel _bad_ that I can’t give you what you want, and— well, I wouldn’t blame you if you—” He shakes his head and looks away.

“Deaky. You know I’m not just…waiting for sex, right?” Roger asks. “I mean, if you were offering I wouldn’t say no.”

John has to chuckle, even though he doesn’t want to.

“But I don’t just sit ‘round thinking to myself, _when’s John going to finally takes his pants off for me_?” Roger gives him a small smile. “I like spending time with you. And the other stuff— what we’ve done so far is pretty great, okay?”

John smiles and looks away. “Yeah, it has been.”

“And as for the rest of the people,” Roger says, turning to the house. “Fuck them, alright? Fuck anybody who comes to our show and doesn’t know who our bass player is. You’re fucking John Deacon.”

John laughs again. “Roger, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Roger shakes his head. “It means _everything_. John fucking Deacon, electronics extraordinaire. Best bass player in Blighty. They’re going to regret the day they forgot about you.” He steps towards John, pulling him in closer. “When we’re rich and famous and winning all sorts of awards…”

John rolls his eyes, but lets himself get tugged in closer to Roger. “What then?” he asks.

“Then I’m going to make every speech, every time we’re in a sold-out stadium,” Roger says. “I’m going to say, this is our bass player, John Richard Deacon and I fucking love him.”

John rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I just worry about being…forgotten, sometimes,” he admits, feeling uncomfortable actually saying it out loud.

Roger gives John a kiss. “I don’t forget you,” he whispers, meeting John’s eyes. “You’ve been on my mind since our first fucking gig.”

John’s smile grows, and he leans against Roger, taking a deep breath. “Rog, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Roger says, smiling. “You’re my boyfriend. And don’t forget it.”

John nods quickly. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Roger sighs and pulls back, looking around. He snorts with laughter all of a sudden, trying to keep it in and failing.

“What?” John asks cautiously, stepping back.

“Nothing, it’s just.” Roger gestures around them. “You, me, arguing, one of us trying to abandon the other one on the streets. It’s like our thing now.”

“Shut up,” John mutters, but he’s trying not to smile.

“It’s not a very good habit, John,” Roger says. “We should really work on our communication skills.”

“Did Brian tell you that?” John asks.

Roger shrugs. “Brian, is he the sexy drummer or the tall guitar player?” He smiles slowly.

“Shut up. You know, I was being honest, and now you’re teasing!”

“You’re right, Deaky, you’re right, and I’m sorry.” Roger squeezes John’s hand. “Now, can we please go back inside and finish this awful fucking gig so that we can get paid and go home already?”

“Okay,” John agrees, and they quietly walk back to the house together. When they get to the top of the front steps, just about to open the door, John steps up, blocking Roger’s way. “Can I sleep over tonight?” he asks, making a decision.

“Yeah, course,” Roger nods. He doesn’t seem to understand what John’s asking. 

John smiles, swallowing hard, deciding not to push it right now. “Okay, thanks.” He steps out of the way, letting Roger open the door. He takes a deep breath, and follows him in.

\+ + + + +

Roger yawns loudly, stretching out under the bedsheets, arching his back a bit. He groans and rubs at his eyes, then rolls onto his side, snuggling closer to John. “Mornin’,” he says softly, pressing his lips to John’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” John says softly, rolling onto his side to face Roger, resting his hand on Roger’s waist. “What time is it?” he asks.

“Too bloody early,” Roger mutters. “Go back to sleep.” He rolls away from John, throwing his arm over his eyes. He then takes a deep breath, and rolls back towards him. “Ugh, fuck. I’m going to have a shower.” He swings his legs off the bed, and then leans back to give John another quick kiss. “Be right back.”

“Kay,” John murmurs, rolling onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around his pillow. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes again.

John jolts back awake when he hears a loud bang. He’s not sure how long he was asleep for. He lifts his head, and sees the room is empty. John yawns and sits up, rubbing at his face. He swings his legs off the bed, and then slowly stands up. “Rog?” he calls softly. He looks around, sees his jeans on the floor, but he ignores them as he walks out of the bedroom.

“Sorry,” Roger says, glancing behind him. He’s on his knees on the kitchen floor, wearing his jeans and an open shirt, cleaning up what looks to John like a broken mug and spilled coffee. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” John says, pushing his fingers under his shirt to scratch at his stomach. He quite likes the look of Roger like this, down in front of him. “You alright?” he asks, hoping his voice sounds normal to Roger’s ears.

Roger nods and waves him off. “Morning’s not my time to shine,” he shrugs, picking up the pieces of his mug and dropping them in his sink. He walks over to John and gives him a kiss. “I’d offer you some, but…”

“Was that your only mug?” John asks, laughing softly.

Roger smiles and shrugs. “Can I get you anything else?”

John’s not really in the mood for anything, but he decides to humour him for a moment. At the very least, he hopes talking will settle his nerves. “What do you have?”

“Bread.”

John snorts and tries not to laugh again. “I’ll be alright, love,” he says. He smiles at Roger.

“Okay, good,” Roger says. “Because it might have gone bad, I haven’t checked.”

John laughs loudly this time. “Should we have stayed at my flat instead?” he asks. “Where there’s…food? And dishes?”

“And flatmates?” Roger finishes.

“What’s wrong with my mates?” John asks, crossing his arms.

Roger shrugs. “Nothing _really_ …it’s just, I’d rather be alone, wouldn’t you?” He smiles and bats his eyes at John. 

John smiles and bites down on the tip of his tongue. He was just thinking how nice it is to be alone with Roger. “Oh?” he asks, teasingly. “Why is that?”

Roger scoffs and kisses John again.

“No, really, why?” John asks. It’s fun teasing Roger.

Roger steps back and narrows his eyes at him.

“Oh, I get it!” John says. “So we can practice without bothering anyone, I get it.” He grins.

“You’re the worst,” Roger groans, shoving him playfully. “Forget it. You can— you can—”

“What?” John asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“You can blow yourself next time!” Roger says, thrusting his finger at John’s chest.

John laughs again. Roger turns away from him, and John reaches out, grabbing him. “Okay, I’m sorry,” John says. “I’m just teasing. I’m glad my flatmates aren’t here.” He pulls Roger in close, and kisses him. “I like waking up next to you,” he says softly. He feels a bit nervous, but wants to push through it. 

Roger smiles and kisses him back. “I know. I was just teasing to get you to admit it.” He sighs. “Do you want to run ‘round the pub and get something to eat?”

John shakes his head. “Not really, no.” He swallows hard. He’s more than just nervous now, but, he thinks, there’s no time like the present.

“Oh, okay,” Roger says, “but I wasn’t lying about the bread, I think it’s—”

“Come back to bed,” John says quietly, tugging on Roger’s arm.

“But I’m already awa—” Roger takes in the look on John’s face, and stops talking. “Deaky, are you flirting with me?” he asks.

John shrugs. “We can…at least kiss, for awhile, can’t we? And see?”

“Yeah, alright,” Roger says, smiling. “Lead the way.”

John swallows nervously, and turns back to Roger’s room. They walk in, and sit down on the edge of Roger’s bed. He smiles weakly and turns to Roger, who smiles back.

“What’s brought this on?” Roger asks softly.

“I’m not sure,” John admits. “I…woke up, and thought, okay. Probably had something to do with waking up next to you. And after last night. You’re very pretty in the morning.”

Roger smiles, reaching up to push John’s bangs back a bit from his eyes. “Not as pretty as you,” he says, and he leans in, kissing him.

After a few moments, John slowly pulls back, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’m still worried about being bad at it,” he admits.

“It’s okay,” Roger says. “Luckily, you’re quite a good kisser.”

John smiles and leans in, cupping Roger’s face in his hands, pulling him in. Roger smiles against John’s mouth and licks at John’s lips until they open, slipping his tongue inside. John moans loudly, and Roger pulls back. “What?” John asks, but he’s cut off when Roger shifts suddenly, climbing onto John’s lap, straddling him. 

“Touch me here,” Roger says softly, reaching up to grasp onto John’s hands, guiding them down to his hips. 

John’s fingers clench into Roger, a couple just slipping under the loose waistband of Roger’s jeans.

Roger settles onto John’s lap and starts gently rocking back and forth on him as they kiss, it getting harder and deeper the longer they’re together. Roger pushes his fingers through John’s hair, pulling him in close. “I love you,” he murmurs.

John’s starting to regret not pulling on his jeans, because now, in just his briefs, it’s glaringly obvious how hard he is. He thinks if he looks down, he’d see a wet spot growing on the front of his briefs.

Roger pulls back just enough to shrug off his shirt, it falling to the floor behind him. “God, Deaky, take this off,” he murmurs, tugging on the hem of John’s t-shirt. As soon as it’s off, Roger’s mouth is on John’s chest, peppering him with kisses. 

God, John just feels so _immature_ , like he should know exactly what to do and how to move, when in reality he doesn’t know any of it. Roger looks like a bloody sex god compared to him. He just sits there, frozen.

“John?”

Roger’s voice brings him back, and John meets his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“You alright?”

John nods quickly. “Sorry.” He kisses Roger again. “Thinking.”

“About fucking me?” Roger asks.

John’s mouth falls open a bit. “Yeah, actually. Not in the way you’re thinking, but yeah.”

“You know,” Roger says, carefully climbing off John’s lap, undoing his jeans, “the only way to get better at something is to do it.” He pushes his jeans down, kicking them off. “So, the only way for you to get better at fucking me…” Roger pushes down his briefs, stepping out of them.

John swallows hard, staring at Roger’s hard cock in front of him.

“Is to fuck me,” Roger says. “So, what do you say?” He bites down on his lip and swallows hard as he shakily wraps a hand around his dick, starting to stroke himself slowly.

John stares for a few moments longer before nodding. “Yup, yup, okay.”

Roger laughs softly and steps closer to the bed, before carefully dropping down on his knees in front of it. He looks up at John, his hands resting on John’s thighs. “Take these off, then,” he says.

John lifts his hips off the bed enough to start pushing his briefs down, and Roger tugs them off the rest of the way. When Roger wraps his hand around him, John gasps loudly and reaches out, digging his fingers into Roger’s shoulder. 

“There’s vaseline in my drawer,” Roger says, nodding his head towards the small bedside table. “Hand it to me?” He keeps stroking John, and leans in to lap up the precum leaking from his cock.

“Oh _god_ ,” John cries, fumbling with the small container until finally it drops on the floor next to Roger. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, leaning down and almost knocking heads with Roger.

“It’s okay, Deaky,” Roger says, reaching over to the grab the vaseline. “I’m…” he trails off. “I’m going to do this part, okay?”

“Which part?” John asks.

“Just lay back,” Roger says. He climbs up on the bed, and watches John awkwardly push himself up towards the pillows, settling back. Roger moves up beside him, kneeling, and leans down to give him a kiss. “Can you just touch me?” he asks quietly.

John nods eagerly and reaches out, taking Roger in his hand.

Roger gasps and his eyes flutter closed, head tilting back just a bit. He smiles as he bites down on his lip, rocking up into John’s fist a few times. “God, John, I want you to fuck me.” He struggles to open his eyes, and fumbles a bit with the cap of the vaseline, John distracting him. 

“What’s that for?” John asks.

Roger dips his fingers into the container, and carefully reaches behind himself. “Well, you weren’t planning on just shoving it in me, were you?” He shifts his weight, spreading his legs a bit.

“Uh…” John swallows hard, his hand stilling on Roger. He stares at him; he can’t see all that he’s doing, but he’s smart enough to figure it out. The way his arm is bent, the look on Roger’s face, the soft noises he’s making. “Roger, Jesus, I’m gonna come before you’re finished.”

“You better not,” Roger says, rocking up and down on his hand. “Not now, Deaky.”

“Have you done this before?” John asks. He knows Roger hasn’t done all of _this_ before, but he looks pretty familiar with this part.

“Uh-huh,” Roger nods eagerly. 

“Does it feel good?” John asks quietly.

“John, keep touching me,” Roger pleads, reaching down with his other hand to cover John’s, trying to start his stroking again. “It feels so good,” he says, and then he cries out loudly. He’s starting to flush, it going from his face down to his chest. His nipples are hard, and John’s about as tempted to reach up and start playing with them as he is to reach down and wrap his hand around his cock, jerking himself off until he comes. He’s so hard now, leaking against his thigh. He’s desperate for it, but he’s worried that means he’ll come as soon as Roger touches him. He thinks Roger will kill him if he does.

“Here,” Roger says, pushing the vaseline towards John, still riding his fingers. “Just— on yourself, touch yourself. I’m ready.”

John picks up the container and dips his fingers into it, getting enough to spread over himself. He swallows hard, then gets a bit more. More couldn’t hurt. He squeezes his cock, gasping loudly. “Roger,” he pants, and it takes all his strength to not keep touching himself.

“You’re alright,” Roger says breathlessly. “Just lie there and think of England.”

John rolls his eyes and sighs, but he starts to blush deeply as Roger settles on top of him, straddling his hips. It goes down from his cheeks to his chest; he’s bloody mortified at how obvious it is. He watches Roger reach back, and then feels Roger’s fingers grasping onto his dick. Roger holds John upright up and sits up a bit, positioning himself over him.

“Are you sure this is best?” John asks suddenly, sitting up. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Shh,” Roger says, reaching out with his free hand, trailing his fingers down John’s chest. “I’m not hurt.” 

John feels the head of his dick slide against Roger as he shifts; just being this close to him already feels bloody amazing, how the hell is going to last once he’s actually _inside_ him?

Roger gasps a little as he slowly starts to press down on top of him, pushing just past the tight ring of muscle. “Ah, Deaky,” he gasps, reaching down to put his hands on top of John’s, where they’re digging into his hips. He starts bearing down a bit more, slowly lowering himself even further. Roger’s eyes squeeze shut, and his head tilts back just a bit. He’s breathing heavy; he really wants to get to the good part as quickly as possible, but he knows he’ll regret it later if he doesn’t take it slowly now. “Oh, John,” he murmurs, squeezing John’s hands tightly.

John can’t take his fucking eyes off of him, he’s never seen anything like this, this beautiful, in his life. He can’t believe it. He also can’t help it when he slowly pulls his hand away from Roger’s hip, grasping onto his dick.

“John!” Roger cries loudly. He collapses on top of him, his hands dropping from his hips to John’s stomach, where he braces himself.

John slowly starts stroking Roger, who was already hard but seems like he’s getting harder in John’s hand.

Roger’s breath hitches, he feels like he can’t get control of himself, and his hips start moving, his thighs a bit shaky as he pushes himself up and then lets himself drop down further and further each time. “Oh, Deaky,” he says, eyes still shut, it all feels too much and too good and completely overwhelming. “John, John,” he gasps, each time he moves his hips.

“Are you okay?” John asks softly. He reaches up a bit, pushing Roger’s hair away from his face.

“Uh-huh,” Roger nods eagerly, starting to move a bit faster. It doesn’t feel all good, but it’s the most intimate thing he’s ever felt, he’s never been this close to another person before, and he almost feels like he could burst into tears. He once slept with a girl who cried almost every time she came, which Roger didn’t understand then, but he thinks he gets now.

John can’t believe he hasn’t come three times already, he never even dreamed that being with someone could feel this good, and Roger is _so_ tight around him and making the most wonderful of sounds. He reaches up to cup Roger’s cheek, pressing his thumb to Roger’s swollen bottom lip. 

Roger reaches up to take John’s hand, kissing his thumb and then sucking just the tip into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around and smiles down at John. 

John gasps and groans, it’s too much to watch, he squeezes his eyes shut. He feels like he’s going to come too soon anyway, and looking at Roger is already too much. If he closes his eyes, he can picture something else, anything else, Brian helping him with his amp, Mary talking about Biba, any sort of maths problem. 

“Oh, Deaky,” Roger sighs from above him, and all John’s focus is gone out of the window. He starts thrusting up, knowing it’s too fast, knowing he’s going to finish soon, knowing Roger will be disappointed, but he can’t help himself now. It feels too good, and all he can think about is coming. Both of his hands are digging into Roger’s hips now, holding him tight, fingers pressed into his ass.

Roger starts panting loudly. His fingers start digging into his thigh, and his other hand wraps around his cock, starting to desperately stroke himself. He’s nothing but moans now, and with almost every thrust John is pressing against something inside him that feels absolutely marvellous.

“Oh, god, Roger,” John cries loudly, coming inside Roger. He moans, his voice breaking. He keeps thrusting, unable to control his hips, still trying to chase that feeling and keep it going for as long as possible.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” Roger mutters, and as John’s hips start to slow beneath him, Roger stills his hips as well and just sits on him, just jerking himself off as quickly as possible. He’s desperate to come, can’t think about anything else. When he finally does, it’s loudly. He collapses onto John again, digging his fingers into John’s chest, riding out the waves through his body, rocking against him. His mouth is hanging open, he’s breathing heavily, his cheek pressed against John’s ribs.

John wraps his arms around Roger, holding him close as Roger keeps moving. Feeling Roger come around him, his own hips starting thrusting again. He’s not completely hard again, but John thinks he could be again pretty soon. Nothing has ever felt this good. 

Roger curls against him. His thighs are a bit tight and achy, he knows he’d be much more comfortable if he dropped to the mattress and curled against John’s side, but his mind is much too cloudy for all that at the moment. He just starts pressing his mouth against John’s chest, wet, open-mouthed kisses. Roger gets as close to him as he can, and just rests against him as his breathing and his heartbeat slow.

John groans softly and shifts his hips a bit, feeling himself slip out of Roger. Roger whimpers and John squeezes his eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and a bit sorry for Roger. 

When Roger finally lifts his head, maybe minutes later, his blonde bangs are plastered to his sweaty forehead, and his blue eyes are bright. He’s smiling up at John. “John Deacon, that was amazing,” he says, leaning in to give John a kiss. “Christ, Deaky.”

John really doesn’t feel like he did that much, and he’s sure that Roger deserves most, if not all, of the credit, but he’s happy to just kiss Roger again, reaching up to brush his bangs back. “Your eyes are so pretty,” he says softly, kissing Roger’s forehead.

Roger snorts and laughs softly, dropping back down. “You don’t need to flatter me, Deaky, you already got me into bed.”

“How did it feel?” John asks quietly.

“Oh _god_ , Deaky,” Roger says, “I hope you’re not feeling inadequate because I’ve never felt like that in my life.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” John asks.

Roger shakes his head, and takes a deep breath. He yawns quietly, snuggling against him. “When can we do it again?”

“Roger.”

“What?” Roger asks, laughing. “Now that we’ve done it, I want to do it all the time. God Deaky, your cock…” He lifts his head and teasingly licks his lips.

John blushes. “You’re insatiable,” he says, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also looking forward to the next time. And the next time after that. 

Roger groans and finally moves off John, at least halfway. He drops to the mattress and rests against John’s side, but keeps his legs curled up, resting on John’s waist. “God, I need to wash up,” he mutters. He frowns, thinking about the sheets. “And we have to do the wash,” he says, wiping his hands on them.

“Can’t we just stay here for a minute longer?” John asks. His eyes are closed, though he’s not about to fall asleep, he’s so comfortable, he really doesn’t want to move. “Just a moment, love.”

Roger smiles at him, feeling so content and happy there, it’s like his chest’s about to burst. “Yeah,” he says softly, “just a moment. I suppose that’d be alright.”

“Mm.”

Roger leans up and gives John a kiss, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I love you,” he says.

John smiles. “I love you too.”

“Deaky?”

“Mm.” 

Roger swallows hard and pushes himself up so he’s looking down at John. “You should stay here,” he says finally.

John nods. “Of course, Rog, I’m not going to leave.” He reaches out to squeeze Roger’s hand. “Not after that.”

Roger smiles and looks down at their hands, entwining their fingers. “I meant for good.”

John slowly smiles up at Roger. “In your flat.”

Roger nods.

“The both of us.”

“Yeah, that sounds alright, doesn’t it?” Roger asks. “I know it’s not much…”

“Neither’s mine,” John says softly.

“But I think I rather like the idea of having you here every day.” Roger slowly drums his fingers over John’s stomach, playfully distracting himself. “Until you get sick of me, at least.”

“Never.” John sits up, giving him a kiss. “I think I rather like the idea of being here every day too.”

“Okay, good,” Roger says. “It’s settled then.”

John nods in agreement. “It is.”

Roger’s quiet for a moment, then he grins widely and jumps on top of John, wrapping his arms around him. 

John laughs loudly in surprise, falling back on the bed, taking Roger with him.

\+ + + + +

John’s sitting on the small couch in the practice space, arm around Roger’s shoulders. Roger’s curled up against him, smiling. Freddie glances back and forth between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “You two are the most obvious people on this whole bloody planet,” he announces.

“Obvious?” John asks, frowning. “What do you mean, Fred?”

“Hmm,” Freddie says, turning back to Brian. “Brian, what do you think of this?”

Brian shrugs. “I’m not sure, Fred. What is _this_?”

“These two lovebirds have a secret,” Freddie says. 

Roger laughs softly.

“Maybe more than one,” Freddie continues. “And there absolutely cannot be any secrets in the band.”

“Oh, come off it, Fred,” Brian says. “They’re fine. A little more lovesick than usual, but that’s alright. Just don’t forget Rog, you’re a _rock_ drummer. None of that soft, lovey stuff. I hope you haven’t lost your touch.”

“His touch is brilliant, actually,” John says.

Roger snorts with laughter, and Freddie’s eyes open wide.

“Oh my _god_ , Roger, you’ve gone and deflowered my poor Deaky.”

“ _Your_ Deaky?” Roger repeats. “Uh, no, don’t think so, Fred.”

“Actually, I’m my own man,” John says. “But uh, yeah, he did.”

Freddie grins. Brian looks over at them, trying not to smile. “So is that the secret, then?” Brian asks. “Brilliant. Alright, can we practice now?”

“He’s moving into my flat,” Roger announces. “That’s the secret, actually.”

“ _Your_ flat?” Brian repeats. “God John, I hope you’re going to bring your own forks and spoons because I don’t think Roger owns a single one. And you’re going to have to teach him to do his dishes.”

“Hey!” Roger protests loudly. “I’m not as absolutely helpless as you think I am, Brian. I am a grown man.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Brian says. “Gonna invite us ‘round for a housewarming party, then? A homemade meal?”

“You’re on,” Roger says, leaning forward. “It’s gonna be the best dinner you’ve ever had.”

“Oh?” Brian asks. “What are you going to make us, _Deaky_?”

John laughs loudly. “We’ll see.”

“Well, congratulations,” Freddie says. “On everything. I never _dreamed_ when we auditioned my—”

“Why does he keep saying ‘ _my_ ’?” John murmurs in Roger’s ear.

“Just ignore him,” Roger replies, giving him a kiss. 

“I have a new song,” Brian announces, interrupting Freddie’s speech. “Can I play it?”

“Yes!” John says eagerly, shifting in his seat to look towards Brian.

“Roger,” Brian says, nodding towards the drum kit. “Can you play along?”

“Sure thing,” Roger says, pushing himself up. “Any ideas?”

“Just come in when you think you’ve got it,” Brian says, reaching down to pick up his sixpence. “We’ll work it out.”

Roger drops down heavily onto his seat behind the drums. “Ow, my arse hurts,” he says, making a face as he reaches back to awkwardly rub at it.

“Oh my god, Roger,” Brian says, rolling his eyes, “we _get_ it.”

“Oh, Deaky!” Freddie says, looking back at him. “I— well, I am impressed, to say the least.”

John awkwardly laughs and ducks his head, trying not to blush. “Okay, okay, can we please play now? Brian, _please_?”

As Brian plays the first few opening notes, Roger laughs loudly, looks over at John, giving him a wink.

John just shakes his head, laughing softly to himself, smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this was far better received than I ever dreamed of it being, especially since I thought the John/Roger ship had like, five fans, so I knew that I had to write this (especially because I had planned for the first part to have John losing his virginity but that didn't happen) but I'm also not sure how I feel about it, and yes I know it ends the exact same way as part one and I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it, my apologies if you don't.
> 
> The title is from 'Future Management' by Roger Taylor and I'm sure you have, but if you haven't, you need to watch that music video immediately because it's Roger at peak hotness and it needs to be seen.


End file.
